Chapter XII: The Baptism of Fire

It was no false alarm that, as related in a preceding chapter, made the advanced sentinels of the 95th, all hardy fellows from the Thuringerwald, open fire in quick succession.

The Emperor Napoleon, who had recently arrived at Metz, looking old and ill, with his head sunk on his breast, and who, on the 28th of July, had issued that famous bulletin, 'Soldiers, the eyes of the world are upon you! The fate of civilization depends upon our success. Soldiers, let each one do his duty, and the God of armies will be with us!'--the Emperor, we say, finding that the time had come when something must be done to stimulate the spirit of those troops whom he had massed in and about Metz, as well as to appease the fiery impatience of the French people, being aware that Saarbrück was of importance to the Prussians, who there had command of three lines of railway for the conveyance of troops and stores, resolved to carry the place by storm.

Hence, about nine o'clock on the morning of the 2nd of August, the gleam of bayonets was seen on some heights that overlook the town, and the dark columns of the French, in their long blue coats, and red or madder-coloured breeches, became visible, and by that time the whole Prussian force in and about Saarbrück was under arms, and their cannon went thundering to the front.

Over the brass-spiked helmets, the brass-pointed pickel-haubes, with the spread eagle, rose forests of bayonets, a steelly sea flashing in the sunshine, the Uhlans riding with pennons furled and lances down on the flanks of the massed close columns. Anon the drums beat sharply, then the hoarse German words of command rang out on the clear air, the colours rustled on the morning breeze, and rays of light seemed to pass over all the force as the columns deployed into line, elbow touching elbow, loosely, and the order was given to load--to load those terrible needle-guns which carried death and destruction into the Austrian ranks in the war of 1866. They are simply breech-loading rifles, in which the charge is exploded by the projection of a piece of steel, called 'the needle,' on the detonating powder. The Prussians, whenever they encountered the French, allowed them to exhaust the fire of their chassepots at long range; then they poured in their own with deadly accuracy; and next came the bayonet charge--and those who have seen the Prussians charge will never forget the impression conveyed by their levelled ridge of steel, the shining helmets, the hoarse hurrahs, the flushed, yet resolute faces, the whole physique of the rushing infantry, and the roar of the trumpets as the Uhlans went thundering on their flanks, whirling their tremendous spears, as if impatient to close with the foe.

All this did Charlie Pierrepont see on this eventful day at Saarbrück.

Ere the Prussians formed line, the booming of their artillery was heard in front; a great deal of wood surrounded the town, and from this, as from an ambuscade, their cannon were fired, and high in the air rose the white smoke above the green foliage* With shouts of '_A bas la Prusse!_' the 2nd French corps, under General Bataille, came rushing on, only to be checked and decimated by the biting cannonade; the grassy slope that led to the heights was soon dotted by killed and wounded, and the stretchers and ambulance waggons made their appearance along the whole line of route.

'What is the meaning of those cheers on the right?' asked Captain Schönforst, a tall soldier-like fellow of the 95th, of Charlie, who was busy scanning the enemy through his field-glass; 'are those dragoons coming in from Forbach?'

'By Heaven, I think it is the Emperor in person, surrounded by a brilliant staff, with a little boy riding by his side!' was the excited response of Pierrepont.

And the Emperor it was, accompanied by the Prince Imperial, then in his fourteenth year.

'Tell the officer commanding that gun near us who these new arrivals are,' said Schönforst, a veteran of the Austro-Prussian war,' and desire him to send a few doses of grape in their direction.'

Charlie promptly delivered the order; the direction of the gun was altered, and thus it was that the young prince received what was popularly known as his 'baptism of fire.'

'He was admirably cool,' wrote the Emperor to the Empress; 'we were in front of the line, and the bullets fell at our feet. Louis has kept one which fell close to him. Some of the soldiers shed tears on seeing him so calm.'

Filled with enthusiasm by all this, General Froissard despatched two battalions of the 67th regiment, under Colonel Theobaudin, to attack the hamlet of St. Arnaul, which was occupied by our friends the Thuringians, and was further defended by batteries of guns on the right flank of the Saar. The 15th French regiment made a rush at those batteries, and captured them with great bravery. Theobaudin's battalion, supported now by the 40th and 66th regiments, and some mitrailleuses--those horrible weapons, now for the first time tried in active warfare--made a furious attack on the village of St. Arnaul.

Shoulder to shoulder stood the resolute Thuringians--the lineal descendants of the ancient Hyrcinian foresters--volleying over wall and bank and hedge with their deadly needle-guns; but the French came rushing up the slope with glorious _élan_, though hundreds went rolling down, dead or dying, and choking in blood.

With those dreadful showers of balls, the mitrailleuses, 'those master-pieces for death and carnage,' were heard amid the roar of the musketry by the strange noise of their discharge, which was dry, shrieking, and terrible!

Their balls in continuous streams tore thtough the Prussian ranks, mowing them down as scythes mow a field of corn. Everywhere the smoke was dense. Heinrich had an epaulette torn off by one bullet, and the spike of his helmet by another, while Charlie was twice on the point of being taken prisoner, when his company was skirmishing in front, at the time when the 8th and 23rd French regiments were also in skirmishing order through some thickly wooded ravines. Two powerful soldiers attacked him--in fact, he had run against them in the smoke--and he must inevitably have been killed or taken had he not rid himself of one with his revolver, while Captain Schönforst passed his long straight sword through the body of the other.

But the Prussian drums were now beating a retreat. It was impossible for the small force in Saarbrück--a mere weak advanced guard--to withstand the many battalions sent against it by the Emperor, especially as the attacking force was supported by an entire battery of mitrailleuses.

The affair was a skirmish rather than a battle, and ended by the town being set on fire, and the thick columns of smoke from the burning houses rose from amid the trees, rolled along the railway embankments, and added to the obscurity and confusion. Amid this rang the roar of the red flashing musketry, and the horrible shrieking of the mitrailleuse. The latter we may describe for the information of the reader is a four-pound gun, divided into twenty-five compartments by as many rifle barrels, all loaded at the breech by cartridges, and all discharged at once, the loading only requiring five actions, by which seven thousand eight hundred balls can be discharged in one hour into a circle of twelve feet in diameter.

It was by the fire of one of these that Charlie saw an event which was one of the most touching scenes in the war. His skirmishers had been driven by the French 23rd close to the railway bank, and near them lay a Zouave, terribly wounded in the lungs apparently. The poor man's agony was frightful. He was past speech, and could only clasp his hands in prayer, cross himself, and point imploringly to his mouth.

A kindly sergeant of the 95th uncorked his water-bottle, and raising the Frenchman's head, was about to slake his thirst, when the shrieking sound was heard amid the smoke close by. Out of that smoke came the leaden storm of the mitrailleuse, and the Prussian and the Zouave were literally blown to fragments.

Over the railway bank the Thuringians were now driven, and everywhere the whole Prussian line was giving way! The moment the Emperor became aware of this, with generous humanity he ordered the mitrailleuses to cease firing, and thus arrested the useless carnage.

As yet Charlie Pierrepont had escaped without a scratch, though frequently the very sod beneath his feet was torn and sowed by balls. Though the French obtained possession of Saarbrück--the last troops out of which were the Thuringians--the Prussians still continued to lurk in the village of St. Johann, on the further side of the Saar, and in the thick woods beyond it, from whence the white smoke spirted out in incessant puffs as their well-concealed skirmishers kept up a galling fire on the enemy.

This gradually ceased, and the shadows of evening began to deepen over Saarbrück, and on the faces of the dead and dying who lay by the sedgy banks of the once peaceful river. The fishers had fled, abandoning their tubs and baskets; no figures were seen moving on either side now save those of men in various uniforms; and terrified by the unnatural din that then had seemed to rend the sky, the little birds were seen to grovel amid the reeds and grass, as if too scared to seek their nests in those thickets around which the tide of carnage rolled.

The advanced sentinels were posted for the night, and under the shelter of a shattered cottage wall. Charlie Pierrepont, Heinrich, and Captain Schönforst congratulated each other that they all escaped untouched, and sat down amid the _debris_ of what had once been a cabbage-garden, to enjoy an humble repast, some German sausage, a few slices of bread, and the contents of their water-bottles, dashed with cognac.

The telegram which, on that same evening, the Baron Rhineberg so duly reported at Frankenburg, thereby piercing, as with a poniard, the heart of Ernestine, was correct in some of its details, as the _first_ man killed in the Franco-Prussian war was an Englishman--but not Charlie.

Prior to the affair at Saarbrück, twenty Baden troopers, led by a Mr. Winslow, made a dash into France at Lauterburg, and galloping on as far as Niederbronn, in open daylight, cut all the telegraph wires along the line of railway there. They halted next morning to breakfast at a French farmhouse, when they were surprised, and, in the combat that ensued, Winslow was cut down and slain.

The terror and anxiety of Ernestine were, however, short-lived, as Heinrich's letter, written next morning, contained an enclosure for her that gave her a blessed relief.